CHAPTER XXXIV.

THE FOUR WINDS.


Chicot, with his little horse, which ought to have been a big one to
have carried him, after having slept at Fontainebleau, made a detour to
the right, and proceeded toward the little village of Orgeval. He would
have gone further that day, but his horse failed him. He put up,
therefore, at a good hotel, and went through the rooms to select one
where the doors closed well, and chose an apartment which had just been
repaired, and the door of which was furnished with a formidable lock.

Before going to bed, although the hotel had appeared almost empty, he
locked the door and placed a heavy table and a chest of drawers against
it. He then put his purse under his pillow, and repeated to himself
three times over the translation of the king's letter. There was an
extremely high wind blowing, and as it howled in the neighboring trees,
it was with a feeling of great satisfaction that Chicot plunged into a
very comfortable bed.

He had a lamp by his bedside, and he occupied himself for some time in
reading a book which he had brought with him; but, although he liked the
book, in reading the third chapter he fell asleep. The wind moaned about
the house, sometimes like a child crying, and sometimes like a husband
scolding his wife; and as Chicot slept, it seemed to him, in his dreams,
that the tempest came nearer and nearer. All at once a sudden squall of
invincible force broke locks and bolts--pushed the chest of drawers,
which fell on the lamp, which it extinguished, and on the table, which
it smashed.